


dream when there's nothing to feast on

by Quintessence



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Aged-Up Character(s), Angst, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protective!Killua, Whump, big big whump, hurt!killua, when i say h/c i mean maximum h/c, zoldyck family dysfunction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-07 11:42:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21457489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quintessence/pseuds/Quintessence
Summary: “Listen,” Gon begins, stepping forward and ready to give Illumi a piece of his mind.But he doesn’t get the chance.“No!” Killua shouts, throwing an arm out to keep Gon back.  Illumi smiles even wider.“Gon, don’t move,” Killua says, voice low and oddly panicked.  “Don’t move, okay? Just stay where you are. I’ll go, Illumi. Alright?  I’ll come with you.”In which there is only one type of pain Killua truly can't bear.
Relationships: Gon Freecs/Killua Zoldyck
Comments: 88
Kudos: 645





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i had a really god-awful week. and therefore killua must suffer.
> 
> all kidding aside, while there is absolutely no onscreen violence whatsoever, there is a TON of extremely vague offscreen violence. if that doesn't sound like what you're in the mood for today, that's a-okay.
> 
> title is from "steal smoked fish" by the mountain goats.

For a while, it really is good.

For a while, Gon and Killua are seventeen and in love. Gon’s recovered his Nen and Killua has accepted his many apologies and the broken bones of their past have mended together and only grown back stronger. For a while, they live together in an apartment that’s very small but has lots of windows and the owner of the bakery down the street likes to slip two extra buns into the bag when they buy a loaf of bread. Killua sings every morning in the shower, his voice slightly rough but charming all the same. They still run missions when they find themselves in need of money or adventure, but just as often they buy sunflowers tied with brown paper and twine from the stall near the river and laugh until they can hardly stand it anymore.

It’s like that for a while.

Gon’s found that bad things rarely begin with a bang. More often there’s a whisper that could just as well be the wind and you hardly think twice about it. And it’s only much later you realize that this was the moment it all started, that the whisper would eventually grow to a deafening scream.

This time, the whisper is a text message.

Killua’s phone chimes while they’re watching a movie. He picks it up and whatever is on the screen makes him snort derisively before he types out a quick, staccato reply, brow furrowed, and sets it back down.

“Was Leorio being an idiot again?” Gon asks, taking Killua’s hand in his own simply because he can.

“No,” Killua replies. “Just my brother.”

Gon stiffens.

“Which one?” he asks.

“Milluki,” Killua says, and Gon relaxes again. “Some nonsense about how I’ll be eighteen next month and it’s about time I came home and took over the family business like I’m supposed to.”

“And what did you say?”

“I told him to fuck off.”

Gon laughs.

“I love that about you. Never one to beat around the bush, huh?”

“Never,” Killua says with a grin.

That’s all it is. A whisper. Nearly entirely forgotten by the time they crawl into bed, Gon pulling Killua into his arms and pressing a kiss to his hair. Just a whisper. Just as easily the wind.

* * *

For a few weeks, it’s okay. Occasionally Killua gets a text that makes his mouth tighten at the corners and once or twice Gon wakes up in the middle of the night to hear Killua speaking in hushed, urgent tones in the next room, but it’s really no cause for concern. Killua’s family making things difficult for him is hardly unusual. So when those texts come in, Gon presses a kiss to Killua’s cheek to make him smile again. When he crawls back into bed after a phone call, Gon throws an arm around his waist and falls back asleep almost instantly.

A month later, Gon will think back on these few weeks and curse his own naivete. He should’ve read the signs more closely. The way Killua started eating less. The way he tossed and turned at night. The slight, implacable tension in his body when his phone chimed. Maybe if Gon had just paid attention things could’ve ended up different. He should’ve learned years ago that there’s no such thing as a petty squabble, not in Killua’s family.

And, a month later, staring at his ceiling alone in bed, Gon will finally admit to himself that maybe he did notice more than he thought. Maybe he knew Killua’s constant assurances that everything was fine sounded a bit too hollow. Maybe he was so determined to keep this perfect, idyllic, storybook life that he outright refused to consider there would ever be a threat to it. Maybe he ignored the danger to have just a few more weeks of sunflowers wrapped in brown paper and fresh baked bread sliced thick.

But by the time it finally happens, by the evening before Killua’s birthday, it’s too late to do a damn thing.

They’ve arrived back from a job recently, a good paying one that lets them order in as much as they like for dinner. It’s the really good stuff, from that restaurant in town with the fragrant, rich curries and the potatoes stewed just the way Killua likes.

Tomorrow they’re taking the train to see Leorio and Kurapika two towns over to celebrate, but tonight it’s just the two of them at their small, wobbly kitchen table. Just the two of them, with the sunlight slanting in through the windows and bathing the apartment in warm, golden light and the radio playing softly in the background and Killua shoving Gon in the shoulder for teasing him but laughing all the same.

By the time the sun has set, they’re half-drunk on laughter and pleasantly sleepy, ready to fall onto the couch and watch a film they’ve both seen a thousand times. By the time there’s a knock at the door, Gon hardly has a care in the world.

“I’ll get it,” Killua says, still giggling a bit and trailing a hand down the length of Gon’s arm as he gets up.

“Alright,” Gon says, idly wondering if he looks even half as lovestruck as he feels watching Killua walk around the corner.

It’s only thanks to Gon’s exceptional hearing that he catches Killua’s half aborted gasp as he opens the door. He’s suddenly entirely alert, no longer loose-limbed and pliant. Gon can’t see the front door from where he’s sitting, but he’s spent the past five years with Killua. He can tell from a single breath when there’s something wrong.

“Go,” Killua says, with the exact tone he uses when he’s trying his utmost not to sound frightened.

“C’mon, Kill. I said we could do this the easy way or the hard way. And you’ve decided to make things hard.”

Gon’s body goes dizzyingly cold and tense in an instant. There’s no mistaking Illumi’s voice.

Despite his instincts telling him to rush to Killua’s side, shut the door, and lock the deadbolt, Gon hesitates. Intervening in Killua’s family business is a delicate, dangerous thing. The last thing he wants to do is make it any worse.

“I told you to go,” Killua says, with the slightest quaver in his voice.

Illumi laughs.

“You don’t seem to understand. You’re leaving here with me. All you get to decide is whether or not you’re conscious during the trip.”

Gon leaps up from the table. That’s it. Diplomacy be damned, he isn’t going to permit anyone to threaten Killua. He strides purposefully towards the door, his aura already gathering around him.

Illumi’s leaning on the door frame with deliberate nonchalance, looming over Killua. Killua’s feet are planted wide and his back is ramrod straight. He turns at the sound of Gon’s footsteps and his eyes go wide with stark terror.

As soon as Illumi lays eyes on Gon, an eerie, sinister grin, too wide and not quite reaching his eyes, blooms on his face.

“Oh,” he purrs. “That’s what all this is about, huh? I suppose it makes my job easier. Because you know exactly what I’m about to say. I don’t think I really need to spell it out for you, do I?”

Killua’s body trembles quite visibly.

“I won’t let you,” Killua says, with a desperation Gon’s never heard from him before. Gon doesn’t know what they’re talking about, what veiled threats Illumi is making, but Killua clearly does. And they clearly terrify him.

“Oh?” Illumi croons. “Is that so?”

“It’s not like when we were kids. I’m stronger now. You can’t just force me into things anymore.”

“Really? You’re that confident that you can beat me? You’d be willing to take _ that _risk?”

Illumi produces a needle, seemingly from nowhere, and begins twirling it idly in his fingers, looking at Killua with that eerie, vacant grin. Killua makes a strange, half-choked noise and his hands clench into fists.

And Gon simply isn’t going to stand for it anymore. He’s not going to hover uselessly in the background and allow Illumi to threaten Killua like this. Killua shouldn’t be afraid. Killua should never be afraid, not if Gon has anything to say about it.

“Listen,” Gon begins, stepping forward and ready to give Illumi a piece of his mind.

But he doesn’t get the chance.

“No!” Killua shouts, throwing an arm out to keep Gon back. Illumi smiles even wider.

“Gon, don’t move,” Killua says, voice low and oddly panicked. “Don’t move, okay? Just stay where you are. I’ll go, Illumi. Alright? I’ll come with you.”

“See? I knew you’d see reason,” Illumi says, with unrestrained glee.

“Can you just give me five minutes to gather my things?” Killua says, with that same strange desperation.

“Kill, we’ve got everything you need at home.”

“_ Please,” _Killua begs. “Please, just five minutes.”

Illumi sighs.

“Fine, but you’ll owe me. Nothing’s free in this life, baby brother. Trust me, you’ll end up paying me back for these five minutes a dozen times over.”

“That’s fine,” Killua says, voice strained. “That’s fine; I don’t care. Just wait here. I’ll be right out. I promise.”

And with that, Killua slams the door shut. He turns to Gon, eyes wide and terrified and the corners of his mouth twitching downwards. He doesn’t look like Killua. He looks like a frightened, cornered animal. Like a beaten dog.

“Killua, what was that about? What does he mean ‘at home?’ You’re not gonna--”

“Gon, listen to me,” Killua interrupts. He grabs Gon’s upper arms in his hands, tight, and stares right into his eyes with an almost uncomfortable intensity. “Please, listen and do exactly what I say. _ Don’t come after me _ . I’m not asking; I’m telling you. Do _ not _come after me.”

Gon shakes off Killua’s grasp.

“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard!” Gon shouts. “I’m not going to let them take you. I know how bad it gets, Killua. You think I don’t know, but I do. And I’m not just going to sit here uselessly and let them hurt you!”

“Well, sorry, but that’s what you’re gonna have to do.”

“Why? I saved you last time, remember? Just after the Hunter Exam. Why can’t I do it again?”

“Because… because you’ll make it worse!” Killua shouts. “That’s what you need to tell yourself, okay? Please, whenever you think about coming for me, you need to tell yourself that however bad things are, if you come, you’ll make it worse. You need to tell yourself that if you really care about me, if you really want to protect me, you won’t come after me.”

Hot tears of frustration begin to fill Gon’s eyes.

“So, what, that’s how I help? By just letting them hurt you? That’s how I save you?”

“Yes, Gon! It is!”

The tears spill down Gon’s cheeks.

“It’s about taking over the family business, right?” he says, his voice very small. “That’s why they’re taking you.”

Slowly and gently, Killua brings his hand up to cradle Gon’s face, thumb rubbing his cheekbone.

“I’m just going to tell them no,” Killua says softly. “I’ll tell them no until they understand and I’ll be back here before you know it. I promise, Gon.”

It’s not fair. Hasn’t Killua suffered enough? Hasn’t he known enough cruelty and pain and loneliness? Just once, doesn’t he deserve the tranquility of a small apartment on a tree-lined street and windows that let in the light of the setting sun?

Gon throws his arms around Killua and pulls him tight to his chest, pretending he doesn’t notice the way Killua’s body trembles. He presses a kiss to his hair.

“It’s alright, Gon,” Killua murmurs. “It’ll be over before you know it. Besides, what could they really do that they haven’t done a thousand times before?”

Gon says nothing, just pulls Killua tighter and tries desperately to believe him.

* * *

Gon was wrong about the apartment being small. Without Killua, it’s far too big. Cavernous. The bed is so large it’s almost absurd. The kitchen table stretches on endlessly.

And he was wrong about the street being tranquil. It’s eerily silent. So quiet that sometimes Gon can’t bear it for a second longer and simply has to let out a guttural scream.

The sunflowers wilt too quickly without Killua there to tend to them. The loaves of bread go moldy before Gon can finish them. The first time he finds the two buns slipped into the bag, he breaks down crying.

Gon can’t sleep. He can’t eat. He can’t stroll down to the river and smile at the passersby and admire the way the light glints off the water. All he can do is sit and fret. A dozen times a day he considers booking the first train ticket to Padokea. And a dozen times more, he remembers what Killua said. He’ll only make it worse. However badly Killua may be suffering now, Gon’s interference will bring more pain and fear and misery.

But Gon gets this awful, sick pit in his stomach when he imagines Killua, alone in the dark, bruised and bloodied, shaking and crying, with no one to comfort him.

Damned if he does, damned if he doesn’t.

A thousand ever-more-horrible scenarios play out in Gon’s mind. All the ways he knows a person could be hurt. The really unspeakable, really unbearable ones, the ones that would bring even Killua to his knees. And the worst part is that he knows he isn’t imagining the half of it. The Zoldycks are far more creative when it comes to the art of inflicting pain. Whatever Gon pictures happening to Killua, the most awful things he can imagine, he knows they’re doing worse.

He vomits more days than not. His nails are chewed bloody.

And so this torture continues two and a half weeks. Seventeen days. Until his phone lights up with Killua’s name.

Gon’s vision tunnels, edges going dark and warped as he clumsily, frantically grabs at his phone.

_ Killua: Headed home. _

It’s only two words. Two words that make Gon’s breath stutter and his heart pound in his chest and his hands tremble violently as he types a reply.

_ Gon: Are you okay????? Are you injured???? _

_ Gon: What happened???? _

_ Gon: How bad is it? Don’t lie. _

_ Killua: I’m fine. Please don’t be worried. I should be home by this evening. _

Gon can hardly breathe, can hardly think. He isn’t sure what he’s feeling, but it’s utterly overwhelming. His chest heaves up and down frantically. The room tilts quite suddenly to the left. His hands don’t seem like his own.

He tries asking a dozen different ways, tries finding out just how bad it really is. But Killua is entirely reticent. He won’t tell Gon anything beyond “I’m fine” and “Don’t worry” and “I’ll be home soon.” He doesn’t pick up his phone when Gon calls.

It’s bad. Gon can feel it. Can smell it. Killua’s trying not to worry him. Which, of course, means there’s a reason to be worried.

Time departs from its usual steady course. Minutes stretch on indefinitely. By the time an hour has passed, Gon has aged a year.

A minute passes.

Gon chews his lip bloody.

A minute passes.

Gon imagines all the states Killua might be in, imagines his face bruised past the point of recognition, imagines his hands missing fingernails.

A minute passes.

A minute passes.

A little past seven, the door to the apartment does finally open. It happens in slow motion, the door moving inch by glacial inch. Gon holds his breath, bracing for the worst. Bracing for the increasingly devastating states he imagines Killua in.

But it isn’t Killua that walks in.

What walks in is shaped like Killua, certainly; it’s wearing his clothes and carrying his bag, yes, but it isn’t him. Because Killua strolls into a room with confidence and ease. Killua holds his chin up and smirks and is always ready to greet Gon with some joke or good natured jab. Killua is unshakable.

What walks in is a hunted, haunted creature, with sunken eyes and sagging shoulders and chapped lips. What walks in trembles and stumbles and begins to sway until Gon suddenly realizes what’s happening and leaps up from the couch and dashes to his side and catches him just as his knees give out.

And Gon’s forced to confront it. It is Killua. It’s Killua broken and defeated and stripped to his core. It’s Killua pushed far beyond a limit Gon didn’t even know he had.

Gon eases them both to the ground, Killua still in his arms, and Killua is stiff for a moment before very tentatively coming to rest his head against Gon’s shoulder, as if afraid he isn’t allowed it. And Gon holds Killua tight to his chest and he doesn’t want to ask but he knows he has to.

“What happened? Killua, what did they do?”

Killua shakes his head.

“It doesn’t,” he begins, but his voice comes out nothing more than a hoarse whisper. He likely lost it screaming, Gon realizes, feeling sicker by the moment. Killua clears his throat and tries again.

“It doesn’t really bear repeating.”

“Don’t do that!” Gon snaps, suddenly furious. “Don’t try to spare me! Goddamnit, after what you’ve been through the past few weeks, don’t even think about making things easier on _ me. _”

Killua goes very stiff and the trembling only gets worse and the guilt is so sudden and intense Gon feels he might vomit.

“No, Killua, I’m sorry,” he soothes, stroking Killua’s hair. “I didn’t mean to snap at you. I’m not angry. I promise. It’s just… it’s been a lot, these last couple of weeks. I’m sorry. I’ve been so worried. I’m not thinking straight. I’m sorry.”

Killua is silent and Gon pulls him tighter, pressing kiss after kiss to Killua’s hair, his cheek, his forehead, his nose.

“Where are you hurt?” Gon murmurs, holding Killua to his chest. “Please, Killua, please. Tell me what’s wrong. I’ll fix it, whatever it is. Just tell me.”

Killua shakes his head.

“There aren’t, um. There aren’t any real injuries. There’s nothing to treat.”

“Really? Or are you just saying that so I don’t see the shape you’re in?”

“No, Gon. What they did, it… it didn’t leave a mark. I’m not injured, okay? I’m telling the truth. I swear.”

“Okay,” Gon soothes. “Okay. I believe you. Maybe some food, then?”

Killua nods and Gon scoops him up, one arm braced beneath his knees and one beneath his shoulders, and carries him to the couch. Killua doesn’t even protest the indignity of it, which shows just how far gone he must be.

In preparation for Killua getting home, Gon had made an enormous pot of soup with noodles and vegetables and meat and stored it in the fridge. He’d thought Killua would need something hot and hearty and filling, so he heats it up quickly and brings Killua a bowl.

Killua’s hand shakes so violently as he brings a bite to his mouth that Gon worries he’ll spill it everywhere. But he manages.

For a while, they don’t speak. Killua just eats and Gon just watches him. Gon would like to think that by the time Killua’s emptied half of the bowl, just a bit of color has returned to his face.

“I never remember it right,” Killua finally says, setting his bowl down on the coffee table.

“Remember what?”

“The pain. I just can’t seem to hold onto it in my memory. I always imagine I exaggerated it. I always think that it wasn’t really unbearable. That I could manage it with enough effort. And I think that’s a kindness, really. I think my mind softens it somehow so I don’t end up collapsing under the weight of it all. But then I’m reminded. I'm reminded of how bad it really gets.”

Gon reaches over and takes Killua’s hand. It’s very cold and small in his own. For a moment, it looks like Killua will say more. But the look passes.

“I’m tired,” is all he says. “I’m just really tired. Can we go to bed?”

It doesn’t matter than it isn’t yet eight in the evening. Gon scoops Killua up in his arms and carries him to the bed, setting him down as gently as if he were made of glass, and slips under the quilt beside him.

Gon pulls Killua flush against his side, guiding him to rest his head on his chest.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “I wish there was more I could have done. I wish I could’ve protected you.”

Killua presses closer to his side.

“No,” Killua whispers back. “There’s only one sort of pain I really couldn’t bear. And by staying here, you spared me that. Please know that. You really did do the right thing. By protecting me from that, you really did save me.”

Gon can’t imagine what this truly unbearable pain could be. It must be indescribable, must refuse the confines of language, if it’s somehow worse than what Killua feels now.

“Whatever that pain is, I’ll protect you from it,” Gon whispers. “I swear on my life, Killua. You’ll never endure that. I promise.”

Killua lets out a shuddery breath.

“That’s good to hear,” he murmurs. “I’m going to hold you to that.”

“Never. I mean that. Never.”

But by the time he says it, Killua’s breath has already slowed to the even rhythm of sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. thank you so very much for reading. i really hope you enjoyed.
> 
> 2\. if you want to leave a comment, know 1--it will be treasured & appreciated & 2. you will receive a hyperactive and delighted reply with an absurd amount of punctuation marks.
> 
> 3\. i'm very active on tumblr, both w my writing & general weeb shit. [feel free to pop by <3](https://storybookprincess.tumblr.com/)
> 
> thank u again for reading. xo


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i did not have any intention of writing another chapter to this, but the spirit just moved me tonight, and who am i to argue w that? so enjoy this short slice of killua pov!!!!!
> 
> another fair warning that while there is still no explicit violence (or really any violence described in anything but the vaguest of terms), this is very very whumpy. much whumpier than the last chapter. if that's not what you're in the mood for, i totally understand <3
> 
> also, don't worry, i didn't have a really awful week this time ;)
> 
> enjoy!!!!

Killua thinks of Gon.

It’s the only way he can manage the pain. As they hurt him and hurt him, Killua imagines Gon’s hand running through his hair, imagines him murmuring those reassurances that always come so naturally to him. As Illumi fulfils his promise and Killua pays the price for those precious five minutes in unspeakably agonizing ways, he imagines Gon holding him, arms strong and tight and comforting. As Killua’s world narrows down to nothing but the unrelenting experience of pain, he imagines what Gon might say to him. He might say, “It’s alright, Killua. I’m here. You aren’t alone. You’re never alone, not as I still breathe. Please, just hold on a bit longer. I know it hurts, but it’ll be over soon. I promise. It will pass. It will pass and I’ll be waiting for you on the other side of the pain. It’s okay, Killua. It’s okay.”

The fantasy is the only comfort he has, but it’s enough. Gon has always been enough.

They taunt him. They ask what his precious Gon would think of him now, curled up in a corner and dry heaving until his eyes water. They suggest perhaps Gon would like a picture. Surely he must miss Killua. Surely he wants to know how Killua is spending his days.

No. Gon mustn’t see. Gon shouldn’t be made to suffer like that. He begs and pleads. Please, he’ll take whatever they deem fit to give him, he’ll do it without complaint, he’ll get back up, he’ll gain control of the nausea, he swears. Just don’t let Gon see. Please.

Laughing, they accept the plea, but not before telling him how silly it is, his devotion to Gon. Gon’s left Killua to suffer alone. Gon isn’t coming for him. Doesn’t Killua see? Doesn’t he see that Gon doesn’t care for him, not like they do? When they want him, they come for him, and they hurt him because of how badly they need him to stay. Gon would never do something like that for him. Gon doesn’t love him like that.

It makes a warped sort of sense. Gon hasn’t ever kept him confined, hasn’t ever demanded Killua stay by his side, hasn’t ever left him too frightened to dare think of leaving. That’s love, isn’t it? Wanting someone so badly you’ll break his legs to keep him from running away?

Or perhaps it isn’t. The vertigo is too profound for Killua to think about any of this very clearly.

The times it all gets to be too much, the times Killua finally breaks down and begs, “Please. No more. No more. I can’t,” they agree. They agree on the condition that Gon can take his place. He can end the pain, right here and now, if he permits Gon to be hurt in his stead.

“No,” Killua says. “Never. Not Gon.”

“So we should continue?” they say.

“Yes,” Killua says. “Please continue. Please.”

This time, the pain feels oddly like relief.

On the rare occasions Killua gets to sleep, he dreams of Gon. Gon, kicking down the door and dispatching of Killua’s family in mere moments before rushing to Killua’s side. He scoops Killua up into his arms and makes soothing sounds and showers him in kisses and promises that Killua is safe now. Now and forever. He swears on his life.

Killua wakes up from those dreams crying. But it’s the good sort of cry.

He doesn’t really want Gon to come for him, of course. No, he fears it far more than whatever new torture his his family has decided to inflict upon him today. It would be just like Gon to embark on some ill-advised, idiotic rescue mission, and surely Killua’s family wouldn’t take kindly to it. Surely they’d hurt Gon too. And it would kill Killua, stop his heart dead, to be the cause of Gon’s pain. He’d go truly mad with grief and rage and horror as Gon suffered and cried and screamed and vomited. Killua’s body is merely a thing. When it comes right down to it, its pain is irrelevant. But Gon--Gon is precious and beautiful and so impossibly good. Gon suffering any pain is the greatest injustice Killua can imagine.

So more than Killua prays for the pain to end, more than he prays for rest or food or water, he prays Gon will not come for him. He prays his warning was enough.

Killua loses track of time. Perhaps a few days later, or perhaps a few months, Illumi comes in looking especially displeased. Killua tenses. Illumi’s bad mood never spells good things for Killua.

“You’re free to go,” Illumi says coldly. “They’ve decided they’re not going to convince you. So you can leave.”

Killua would think it was a dream except that Gon isn’t there, so it can’t be. His legs threaten to buckle beneath him as he heads for the door, although he can’t tell if it’s from the weakness or the relief. He collects his bag from the hall, so weak he struggles to lift it. His phone. He needs his phone. He needs to assure Gon he’s okay. His hands shake violently as he types the message.

_Killua: Headed home._

Immediately, Gon replies, as if he’d been waiting to hear how Killua is. As if he were worried. It’s a lovely thought.

_Gon: Are you okay????? Are you injured????_   
_Gon: What happened????_   
_Gon: How bad is it? Don’t lie._

Killua mustn’t worry him any more. He will never permit himself to be a source of pain, not to Gon.

_Killua: I’m fine. Please don’t be worried. I should be home by this evening._

Gon keeps texting incessantly as Killua leaves the mountain, takes the bus to the station, boards the train, and travels home. He’s never satisfied with Killua’s responses, always demanding more details, tell me more, Killua, I know you’re hiding the truth, just tell me. But Killua only keeps reassuring him over and over that it’s fine. He will not hurt Gon. On that matter, there will be no compromises.

Killua is so weak and exhausted that he wants to sleep on the train, but he can’t. He’s jittery in the sort of way that makes all of his skin feel just slightly raw. He’s so anxious to see Gon. So anxious to ensure his absence hasn’t caused Gon such pain that he’s thought better of the whole arrangement.

The walk from the train station is a tricky thing. The ground beneath Killua’s feet keeps tilting suddenly to the side and his legs shake so badly that he has to take frequent breaks on benches along the street.

Finally, he reaches the apartment building. That’s it, up the stairs. Just one foot after another. Now another.

After several attempts, his trembling hand manages to fit the key into the lock. With a deep breath, he opens the door.

Killua can’t quite explain what happens next. He imagines it like a marathon runner who collapses just after the finish line. The sheer force of will got him into the apartment, but now that he’s here, now that he’s laid eyes on Gon, curled up on the couch and somehow even more beautiful than Killua had pictured him, he deflates. His knees go weak with a finality that he knows mean he really is going to collapse this time.

But just at the moment his legs do buckle, Gon is impossibly beside him, catching him as he falls. Impossibly, as if there is ever a single moment when Gon isn’t utterly impossible.

For a moment, he holds very still. Perhaps it’s just a very vivid dream, perhaps Gon will evaporate into smoke the moment Killua touches him. It couldn’t possibly be real.

But Gon doesn’t disappear. His arms are solid. His chest is warm. His heart beats so hard Killua can feel the pulse against his own skin as he holds him tight.

No, Killua decides as he relaxes into the embrace. This is love. Not breaking Killua until he loses the strength to leave, but catching him the very moment he falls. This is love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> infinite love & gratitude for reading this <3 if you want to leave a comment, know it will be deeply treasured. tumblr's in the last ch's notes if you would like to say hi on there!!!! xo


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